Chapter 6

The air in the Blue Moon’s private room was dead.

I followed Dante inside and immediately felt it.

Isabella sat at the card table, her face chalk white, her hands shaking.

On the table was a silver-plated revolver.

"Dante!" She saw us and threw herself into his arms. "Save me! I'm so scared!"

Across from her sat Marco Valenti, a cruel smile on his seventy-year-old face.

"Right on time," he said to Dante. "Your fiancée owes me fifty million. Plus interest."

"I can give you the money," Dante said, holding Isabella tight. "Right now."

"No, no, no." Marco shook his head. "Money is boring. I want her to play a more interesting game."

He pointed to the gun on the table.

"Russian Roulette. Six chambers, one bullet. If she's lucky, she walks out of here alive."

Isabella started sobbing. "I won't do it! Dante, I don't want to die!"

"She knew the stakes when she sat down," Marco sneered. "The penalty is death."

Dante shielded Isabella behind him, his eyes filled with killing intent.

"Let me take her place."

"No." Marco shook his head. "It must be her. The pact is clear. Or..."

His gaze shifted to me, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Let the girl take her place. Who cares if she dies?"

"Absolutely not," Dante refused instantly.

A flicker of warmth went through me. At least he was still protecting me.

"Then your fiancée can do it herself." Marco picked up the gun, loaded a single bullet, and spun the cylinder. "I'll count to three. The game begins."

"One."

Isabella screamed, clinging to Dante.

"Dante, save me! I can't die! We're supposed to get married! I'm supposed to have your children!"

"Two."

"Wait!" Dante suddenly shouted.

He looked at the weeping Isabella, then he looked at me.

I saw the struggle in his eyes, the agony.

Then, he made his choice.

He looked at me, his face blank. His voice was flat. Devoid of emotion. "Elara. Take her seat."

My world collapsed.

"What?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"That's an order." He wouldn't meet my eyes.

Isabella stopped crying immediately, a hint of a triumphant smile on her face.

"Thank you, darling." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I knew you'd protect me. After all, I'm the one you're going to marry."

She looked at me, her eyes full of venomous satisfaction.

"And she's just a disposable employee, isn't she?"

Marco clapped his hands in delight. "Excellent! This is much more interesting! It seems Mr. Costello knows how to make the right choice!"

Two guards pushed me into the chair.

I looked at Dante. His expression was as cold as a stranger's.

"Why?" My voice was barely a whisper. "You saved my life ten years ago. Are you going to be the one to kill me now?"

"It's the only choice," he said, his voice flat. "Isabella is a Rossi. Her life is tied to an alliance that keeps my men safe. Her life has value." He paused, his gaze turning me to stone. "And you... you work for me."

Just an employee.

The words were a knife to the heart.

Isabella was smiling smugly. "Did you hear that? That's your place in his heart. Don't delude yourself any longer."

Marco pushed the gun across the table to me.

"The rules are simple. Spin the cylinder, put it to your temple, and pull the trigger. If it's empty, you win. If it's not..."

He made a throat-slitting gesture.

My hands were shaking.

"I won't play."

"Then all three of you die," Marco's voice turned dangerous. "No one breaks my rules."

He leaned in, his breath a cold whisper against my ear. "Play the game, Elara. Do as I say."

His jaw tightened. He went rigid, hard as stone.

"This is for the greater good." The words were ground out between his teeth.

The greater good.

I laughed, a broken sound. Tears streamed down my face.

"You know, Dante?" My voice broke. "I never asked for anything. I just wanted to be more than a stranger to you."

I picked up the gun. The weight of it was real in my hand.

"But now I get it. To you, I’m not even a stranger."

Isabella watched, a smug smile on her face. She was enjoying this.

"You should have learned your place," she sneered. "Did you really think fucking him for a few years would change anything?"

Marco started the countdown.

"Ten seconds, sweetheart. Make a choice."

I pressed the muzzle to my temple.

The metal was cold against my skin. I could feel death breathing on me.

I saw Dante flinch, a sharp, violent jerk, as if the bullet had already hit him.

"You know what I hate the most, Dante?" I stared at him. "It's not that you don't love me. It's that you let me believe you would protect me."

"You saved my life once. Now I'm giving it back."

I pulled the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

I was alive.

But there was no relief.

I saw Dante’s eyes squeeze shut for a second. His throat worked, a hard swallow, like he was forcing something down.

"Again," Marco said, his voice giddy with excitement. "Best two out of three."

I raised the gun again. Spun the cylinder. No hesitation this time.

The second pull.

I saw Dante's hand, hanging by his side, clench into a fist.

His knuckles were white.

His eyes never left me, but the coldness was gone.

Replaced by something I couldn't read.

A mix of pain and raw fear.

Click.

Still empty.

The third time.

I closed my eyes.

I thought of all the good memories from the last ten years.

All of it was a lie.

This time, I didn't look at Dante, but I could feel his stare burning into me.

Click.

Still empty.

"Damn it!" Marco slammed his hand on the table. "Lucky bitch! Get out! Both of you!"

The game was over.

Isabella threw herself into Dante's arms.

"Oh, thank God! We're safe!" She turned to me, her eyes dripping with poison. "So sweet of you to be willing to die for me. But that's your job, isn't it?"

I stood up, watching them hold each other.

Dante stroked Isabella's hair, comforting her.

But he looked drained, all the strength gone from his body.

He was paler than she was.

His eyes were locked on me, right over her shoulder.

The look of a dying animal.

I walked to the door.

"Elara."

Dante's voice stopped me. It was raw. Hoarse.

I turned back.

"You did well," he said, and I could hear the tremor in his voice. "I'll give you what you want." I pushed the door open and stumbled out onto the street.

My legs trembled until I couldn't stand anymore.

Where the muzzle had pressed against my skin, a cold imprint remained, like a kiss from death.

I looked back at the man who had sacrificed me for another woman without a second thought.

The last bit of love I had for him was buried forever, along with those three unfired bullets.

Maybe death was the only way I could ever truly be free of him.